There Shall Never Be A Need
by Elemental Emotions
Summary: The re-write of Catch Me. If you're life sucked beyond all reasonable comprehension, then wouldn't the only logical, in fact the only reasonable, choice be to leave it behind and start anew? Fate is a cruel, cold-hearted whore indeed. SLASH! MAJOR CHARACTER DEATHS!
1. Choices

**Disclaimer: The characters and plot of Harry Potter and Lord Of The Rings or anything you recognize are not nor will ever be mine. *sigh* Actually, I don't own anything except for a pair of curiously fuzzy socks. My insanity owns me though, just in case anyone wanted to know...**

**Summary: Fate really is a cruel, cold-hearted whore. After the war, Harry decides that with all his loved ones dead life isn't worth living anymore. At least, not life on Earth. He beseeches his magic to take him where he is needed the most and surprisingly, it answers him. Just take a wild guess as to where he ends up?**

"Speech"

_~Parseltongue~_

***Flashback***

_Letters_

* * *

**Prologue**

There is a place, within each of us, that we fear the very thought of.

A place festering with Darkness and crawling with emotions that we have pushed there because of their unpleasantness. Shame, regret, guilt, hatred, sorrow, obsession, fear, humiliation, rage, greed, jealousy, the list goes on and on.

We lock these emotions into this place, this black hole, and hope they never resurface. But they always do, the hole is never filled. No material possession, no beautiful man or woman, even ultimate power cannot quench it's hunger, it's emptiness.

Once there was a boy, barely into manhood, who almost succumbed to this place. A place we dare not go. He fought it, and he won. But victory always has a cost.

This is the story of the price this young man paid for the peace of his world and the tale of the trials he had to go through to obtain the same peace for himself. This is the story of one Harry James Potter.

* * *

**Chapter 1: Choices**

* * *

_"It feels like I have lost this fight,_

_They think that I am staying down._

_But I'm not giving up tonight,_

_Tonight the wall is coming down._

_I am stronger than my fears,_

_This is the mountain that I climb.  
Got 100 steps to go,_

_Tonight I'll make it 99."_

Harry sat rigidly, stiff with the shock of what he was hearing. His hands gripped and released the fabric of his old Hogwarts robes, crinkling the smooth material into a wrinkly mess under the lip of the desk. No emotion played upon his face, the only visible sign of his disbelief the complete and unnatural stillness he had acheived, sitting in a comfortable chair in the Head Goblin's office of Gringotts. Yesterday had been July 31st, and Harry's birthday had passed much the same as it always did, with a few presents from friends and no aknowledgement of his existence from his relatives.

The reason for his current surroundings was a letter that had come by owl to the window of his small bedroom, stating that since he hadn't bothered to be present for the reading of either his Mother's, Father's, or Godfather's wills, his presence was requested at Gringotts to look over his new wealth and holdings.

Griphook, Head Goblin of Gringotts, took in the young Potter heir with a toothy smile. The young man was indeed a delicious enigma. Looking like an exact replica of James Potter, the only thing that really distinguished this man as another person was the iridescent green eyes in place of James' hazel that seemed to lay bare your soul, seeing all your secrets. The young wizard seemed to collect himself, or the small bit he had let slip, and asked a simple, if repetitive, question.

"What did you say?" Harry asked calmly, his masks perfectly in place again.

Griphook's grin increased until Harry thought the sides of his mouth might tear.

"I said, the last will and testament of Sirius Orion Black claims you as the sole beneficiary as well as Lily and James Potter's wills." here he paused. "The combined vaults of both pure-blooded families are worth more than the entirety of Wizarding Britain, and that is just the gold."

Griphook shuffled some papers around on his desk, making a small sound of triumph when he found the right one. Scanning it quickly, he continued, "You also now possess many magical tomes of increasing rarity and several magical objects of extreme or dark power."

At Harry's continued stillness, the goblin continued with glee, "Furthermore, you also are the sole heir of Merlin, Godric Gryffindor, and Helga Hufflepuff on your father's side and the sole heir of Ravenclaw on your mother's side." here Harry interrupted.

"Wait, I though I was a half-blood? My mother was muggle-born." he stated firmly.

Griphook scanned further down the paper in his hands, making Harry wonder if he could look it over as well. "No. Your mother was not a muggle-born as most believe, but the fifth generation in a long line of squibs descended from Lady Ravenclaw herself. This entitles you to her, and your other ancestors' vaults and possessions as well as their paintings. The Sword of Gryffindor, the Diadem of Ravenclaw, the Cup of Hufflepuff, and the Pendant of Merlin are all now in your possession and no one can refute your right to those items. It is also known to me that you are a parseltongue, correct?"

"Yes." he answered, still trying to come to terms with the idea that his mother was not a muggle-born, and that he was in fact a pure-blood. A smirk graced his face for a fleeting moment as he thought of what Malfoy would say to that. His blood was more pure than even Malfoy's, not that he would continue to engage in such a childish rivalry. It was still nice to think of what the young heir's expression might be if he knew...

Harry snapped out of his own mind to find Griphook staring at him intently. He would never admit that it made him uncomfortable, but even years later he would still find himself unsettled when remembering the look in the goblin's eyes. After a moment, Griphook sat back from his leaning forward position and continued.

"Mr. Potter, we goblins have studied the ways of magic since before wizards carried wands. There are some magics that we deal with that wizards don't understand. We must to do our job. There are also some magics that shouldn't be tampered with. Soul magic for instance." the small creature lectured in a solemn and serious voice.

"Soul magic?" Harry asked, confused. What had this to do with him?

"Yes, Mr. Potter. Ever since you first walked through the door in Gringotts, we could tell that this magic had been used on you in unspeakable ways." When Harry made to interrupt, Griphook held up a hand. "Wait for me to finish. Your ability to use parseltongue, and see into Voldemort's mind and vice versa is a result of this fumbling attempt at soul magic." the goblin continued in a voice filled with disdain and Harry listened as soul magic was explained to him in basic terms. As he learned what a Horcrux was and what Voldemort had done. He sat, still and outwardly calm, as what was inside of him was explained and answers started coming together.

Harry's anger slowly started to fade into acceptance and curiosity as Griphook went on.

"So that's why I can feel him in my mind, why he didn't die that night." he stated more than asked. The goblin replied anyway.

"Yes, Mr. Potter. He has used a method to get immortality that has perverted his very soul. His essence." Griphook shook his head in disgust.

Harry thought for a moment. "Okay, what does this have to do with me? You mentioned my ability to speak parseltongue earlier. What has that to do with this?"

"Well Mr. Potter," the small creature steepled his fingers in front of his mouth in contemplation. "I believe that the soul piece residing inside of you has, in short, bestowed you with a magical inheritance. Slytherin's to be exact. By placing a piece of himself within you, Voldemort has accidentally revived an old wizarding magic that has placed you as Slytherin's heir by magical right." he stated primly.

"Meaning?" Harry ground out, not really liking the sound of this.

"Meaning, Mr. Potter, that you are the heir of Merlin and all four founders. If you so chose, you could take over Hogwarts with no contestation as it would be within you rights." Griphook smirked at the tense young wizard.

"Bloody brilliant." Harry muttered under his breath, but griphook was not finished.

"This also means that you have access to Slytherin's vaults and possessions, including Slytherin's Daggers, Locket, and Ring. Lord Voldemort has been the heir of Slytherin only because he was the last in the line. Not anymore." The goblin's smile grew nasty. "He cannot technically be classified as existing as his soul is so split it does not register as one being. If you so chose, Mr. Potter, you could take over his Lordship and restrict or revoke his access to Slytherin's gold and vaults. All within your rights of course and he could not do or say anything to the contrary."

Harry's smile turned as nasty as Griphook's and they shared a look.

"Revoke Voldemort's access to the Slytherin vaults. Then I would like it if you could give me a complete list of everything that I now own and what exactly is in all the vaults under my name. Is there anything else I should know, Griphook?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter. You have inherited the titles of seven prominent, pure-blooded families. All powerful within their own right. You are now a Lord seven times over, meaning you should be addressed as such. I should also inform you that you have seven seats on the Wizengamot and six on the Hogwarts Board of Directors. You are a very politically powerful man, Lord Potter."

"Just stick with Mr. Potter, if you don't mind Griphook, or even Harry if you would prefer." Harry waved his hand dismissively, not really caring for titles and formalities.

"Harry." the goblin said slowly, as if testing whether the young wizard had really meant what he said. Griphook had never been allowed the right to use a wizard's first name. Ever. It was unheard of, and the usually cold and calculating creature felt a shot of warmth deep in his belly towards the young man who held no predjudices against other creatures.

Harry contemplated this new information, letting his Slytherin side come to the fore and examining the possiblities now at his disposal. He didn't think he'd ever need so much political power seeing as he might not even survive the war, but it would be good to look into all the particulars of his influence.

His thinking was interrupted when the goblin unexpectedly continued.

"You also have letters from your mother, father, and godfather in the Potter vault that will help explain certain things. Here." Griphook stated serenely, handing Harry a stack of papers.

"These are a list of your holdings, where they are, and what condition they are in. When you are done looking through that, we will determine what to do with the rest of your possessions." Harry nodded and looked down at the stack of papers in his hand, flipping through them slowly, amazed at what he saw.

A mansion in London, a house in Paris, a penthouse in L.A., vacation homes in Spain, Russia, Japan, China, India, Africa, and Mexico, a mansion on the coast of Italy, a hotel in Australia, a casino in Las Vegas, and a house on a private island off the coast of Madagascar. There was even a remote, unplottable castle in the mountains here in Scotland! All well maintained and staffed with house elves, fully furnished and ready for use.

Harry was, frankly, astonished, though none of this showed on his face. Outwardly, he looked calm, accepting, and unshakable, but inside he was a mess of trying to understand. He'd known he was wealthy and had a few houses, but this was almost ridiculous. Quickly scanning the rest of the papers in the stack, he concluded that he must be the richest man alive. Setting the stack back on the goblin's desk, Harry took a moment to think over what he wanted to do.

"Griphook, are any of my vaults more than one room?" he finally asked.

"Yes, just one. The Emrys vault has many rooms to it." Griphook said.

"Emrys vault?" the young Lord questioned.

If Goblins could look abashed, this one did. "I apologize Mr. Potter. I had forgotten to inform you of this. Your ancestor's name was not always Merlin. His original name and the name on the vault is Myrddin Emrys. I used the more known name so as not to confuse you."

"Hmmm," Harry pondered on that for a moment before moving on. "I would like for you to combine all of my vaults into the Emrys vault, seperating the various inheritances into the different rooms. I would like all the gold and money pooled in the main room however, leave everything else." he said firmly, confident in what he wanted.

"Yes, Harry. It is already as you wish. We have also put the most important things in the main room for you to spot right away. Mostly the things your parents left for you specifically, and their paintings."

Harry nodded in acceptance. "I would like to see my vault now."

Griphook nodded and stood from his chair to lead the wizard out of his office and down a dark hall to the cart. Harry remembered his first time on the only mode of transportation to the vaults. The twisting, turning, and lurching motions reminded him of what he had seen of roller coasters. Not that he had ever been on one, as the Dursleys wouldn't dare waste so much money on taking him to an amusement park.

Stepping onto the metal contraption and taking his seat, they were soon whizzing through caverns and tunnels gently sloping downward. Harry waited in silence as the rocky walls grew moist and the air still, the cart sliding ever faster, deep into the bowels of Gringotts Bank. The oldest of the vaults in existence were rumoured to be down here, protected by dragons people whispered.

Personally, Harry was doubtful that there was a method to force one's compliance. His experience with the Horntail might have colored his opinion though, so who knew? Maybe there were some nice dragons out there after all who wanted to help the goblins. Harry almost snorted in disbelief at the thought.

After about fifteen minutes of travel, Griphook stopped the trolley and ushered Harry out onto the grey stone floor. The tracks ended about 50 feet away, indicating that this was the end of their journey and the deepest level of Gringotts. Harry followed the small creature into a hallway lit by magic, the walls were the natural bedrock and damp with underground water. They walked passed large doors that seemed to have no lock or way to get inside, and into a large cavern that reminded Harry of the room of doors in the Department of Mysteries.

Griphook bent down and picked something up, confusing Harry until he saw the goblin hold it up high. It looked remarkably like a cowbell, and as Griphook started to rattle it, Harry noticed a shifting in a dark corner he hadn't seen before. A great white dragon was moving out of the shadows, grumbling and roaring in pathetic whimpers. The chains collaring it's neck cutting into the scales and leaving raw flesh beneath.

"It's been trained to expect pain at the noise." The goblin elaborated with a sadistic grin. "Brilliant isn't it?"

Harry didn't think it was brilliant at all, in fact, it made him slightly sick. He hated the thought of a creature being brutilized in any way and kept from freedom. It was just so wrong! But Harry realized that this time, he couldn't do anything about it. Sometimes you had to pick your battles, be smart about things. He knew that this was something he couldn't change or win. So he said nothing, tamping down his nausea and following the goblin, reminding himself never to get on the bad side of one of these creatures.

Finally making it to the other side of the cavern, Griphook dropped the bell and quickly led Harry through another hallway of similar doors to the last, until they came upon a dead end stone wall.

Harry was about to ask what the bloody hell was going on, when the goblin traced his finger down a sequence of seems in the rock. The code was so complicated that Harry had a hard time trying to trace it's path. The seemingly random motions were waited through with patience and a serene expression. The stone melted away, revealing a doorway into another, shorter hall way, lit by torches.

Griphook led him down the hallway and to an intricate stone carving of a man kneeling on the world, lifting an empty chalice that was in relief from the stone to form a half cup, up to the heavens where a beautiful woman sat on a cloud holding a tapestry with an expression of what could only be amusement on her face. Harry realized that the woman was Lady Fate and above the carving in arching letters lay a poem.

**Fate, out of the deep sea's gloom,**

**When a man's heart's pride grows great,**

**And nought seems now to foredoom**

**Fate,**

**Fate, laden with fears in wait,**

**Draws close through the clouds that loom,**

**Till the soul see, all too late,**

**More dark than a dead world's tomb,**

**More high than the sheer dawn's gate,**

**More deep than the wide sea's womb,**

**Fate.**

The curving letters were in Latin, but when Harry laid eyes upon them they shimmered slightly and turned to English. "A responsibility and a warning." Griphook said solemnly, his words echoing eerily against the stone walls and ceiling as the torchlight flickered. "In order to prove your bloodline, you must present five drops of your blood to the door which will then either open, or kill you. Depending on if you really are Harry Potter."

The goblin looked at him with piercing eyes, though there was no emotion on Harry's face to see. The Gryffindor kept his mask firmly in place and looked to the small, but ugly creature for something with which to cut himself.

Griphook produced a beautiful, goblin made, ceremonial dagger. The steel glinting in the light of the torches along with the rubies on the hilt made the weapon look sinister as Harry brought the tip to his skin. Cutting a small slice on his left index finger, Harry moved forward warily to stand before the kneeling man with the upturned face.

As he moved closer, the carving suddenly moved as well, the man tilting his face down to regard teenager with calculating stone eyes. The man put his arms out a little more and the cup came fully out of the carving and into the real world, almost demanding to be filled. Harry looked at the goblet and brought his left hand over the cup, squeezing his finger and letting five drops of crimson blood pool in the bottom. The chalice was quickly yanked back into the carving and offered up to the Heavens. Lady Fate's smile grew wider and she waved her hand dismissively with a slight nod of recognition to Harry, who stood speechless at the scene.

A crack appeared in the center of the carving with a resounding boom, splitting it evenly in two, and continued up to form an arch before diving down unto the ground, framing heavy stone double doors. There were no handles, so Harry slowly put his hands on the carving and pushed with all his might. The sound of stone scraping against stone echoed through the cavernous hall as the doors swung inward and what greeted Harry inside was a sight to behold.

A room the size of the great hall was filled with mountains upon mountains of gold, shelves lined one entire wall filled completely with books. Some looked like they had been written thousands of years ago, while some looked fairly new. On the opposite wall were more shelves filled with curious objects that radiated power beyond anything Harry had ever sensed before. His gaze, however, was drawn most to the very back wall of the room, on which were seven paintings that literally knocked the breath from him.

His mother and father looked peacefully out of a painting all the way to the left and next to them was Sirius. After him were the four founders, all frozen, and then a very old man who was smiling through his beard. The young man just knew that this had to be Merlin, the most revered wizard in history.

Harry turned to Griphook, who still stood outside the doorway, waiting patiently for questions or to help the boy in any way. Frowning slightly, Harry turned to fully face the goblin. "Why are you standing in the hallway?" He asked confused.

"No one but you, Mr. Potter, can enter this vault without your permission." He said simply.

"Oh." Harry looked at the goblin for a second, decided he could trust him, and invited him in. Something else was on his mind though. "Are those magical paintings, Griphook?"

"Yes they are magical, but they will not animate until you activate them."

"And how do I do that?" Harry asked politely.

"You must say 'Activate' and then the name or names of the people in the portrait." The goblin replied.

Harry swung around to look at the paintings warily. He had talked to his parents before in fourth year, but that was different to this in the extreme. What if they didn't like him? And Sirius? What if he blamed him for his death? It was his fault after all for walking hotheadedly into a trap he could have avoided if he'd just listened. The moment Sirius fell through the veil was the moment Harry changed forever. He worked all that summer to control his emotions and not lose his head during a fight, using meditation techniques he'd seen on tv. Dudley and his gang were good practice. As a result, he'd learned the trick of occlumency as well.

Looking even further to the right, he saw the portraits of all four of the founders and Merlin himself, who no one had seen since they were alive.

A beautiful, statuesque woman with long black hair and sharp blue eyes wearing a tiara with the phrase, _**"Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure" **_sat frozen looking out of the painting right next to Sirius'. He guessed that must be Rowena Ravenclaw.

To her right was a brawny looking man with long, golden hair, a large, musculer build, and fierce but mischievious cinnamon colored eyes looking regally out of his painting. Harry was awed at the founder of his house's portrait, he embodied everything Harry wanted to be as a man and as a Gryffindor.

After him was another man, lithe and small, with extremely long black hair and startling emerald eyes filled with cunning and an all consuming sadness.

Next was a short, pleasingly plump woman with hair of spun gold and baby blue eyes that sparkled with love and life.

And last but not least, next to Helga, was a painting of an old man who looked a lot like Dumbledore, although a bit younger, with twinkling deep green eyes that radiated knowledge, confidence, and power in waves, even from inside the painting. Harry couldn't help but wonder what this man would have been like to meet in person if he radiated such things from just a replica of himself on parchment. None of them were moving, just staring blankly out of their paintings

To be able to talk to these people would be an amazing honor he wasn't sure he deserved. After a moment of contemplation, he decided to just wake them all at once when he was ready. To rip the band-aid off quickly so to speak.

As he walked closer to the back wall though, he noticed that envelopes were attached to the bottom of the paintings of Sirius and his parents. These must be the letters Griphook told me about earlier, Harry thought. The thought of reading something from his parents or his godfather written specifically for him made him feel warm. He strode forward confidently, tore the two envelopes off the paintings, and tore the one from Sirius open first. Taking the letter out gently, he began to read.

_Dear Prongslet,_

_If you are reading this then I died sometime during the war. I am so sorry I couldn't protect you like I meant to. You were the light of my life for the however long I got to spend with you, and I want you to know that I am very proud of what you have done and of who you are. And I think you're parents are too. If I know you like I think I do, then you'll be blaming yourself for my death and that is just not true. It wasn't your fault Harry, no matter what happened, it wasn't your fault. I chose to protect you and I chose to put my life in danger. If you did not cast the spell that ended my life then it wasn't your fault at all. You can't blame yourself for things out of your control. Just know that I love you, always have, and always will my little Prongslet. Be safe._

_In order to help you meet that wish, I have left you a few specific things besides the Black family vaults to make your life easier! I have left you a trunk, and inside it you will find a number of things. The first will be full battle robes made from Hungarian Horn-tail skin and dyed black to help with camouflage. Wear them at all times! They can deflect a number of small spells and at least two high powered ones. The second is a cloak to go with the robes, also made of dragon skin, that when you pull up the hood, it hides your face from any eyes, even creature. I also shrunk my bike and put it in the trunk along with a manual of what it does and how to use it. Please please please be careful! I love you and remember, you're not alone._

_Love,_

_Sirius_

By the end of it Harry had to work hard to keep the tears from running down his face, completely dumbfounded at the love and warmth portrayed in Sirius' letter. He stilled blamed himself, but found it much easier to confront the painting of Sirius after reading this. It was eye opening as well that Sirius really was serious (no pun intended) about the war and his godson's part in it, which had been questioned due to Sirius' fun loving nature. Harry wondered where Sirius had gotten the battle robes from and was curious to see what he'd be wearing for the rest of his Voldemort filled life.

Looking over to the side of the room with all the books, he could see two trunks sitting side by side rather inconspicuously. Moving closer he discerned the initials S.B. on one and J.P. on the other. Other than that they were perfectly identical in color, red and gold, and size. He moved to the one with his godfather's initials first and opened the trunk with a click of the latch. Reaching inside, he pulled out a pair of trousers and a sleeveless tank top made of a silky smooth, but obviously tough material. Dragon skin, Harry thought in wonder, running his hands through the liquid like material. After carefully setting down the clothing, he pulled out a set of robes made of the same substance and a cloak. All dyed the deepest of midnight, so black in fact that they seemed to drain the light from the immediate surroundings. A pair of knee length boots came next, slightly sturdier than the rest of the ensemble. As he set these down, his eyes wandered to the side and he noticed that Griphook was still standing right where Harry left him. He had forgotten that the goblin was there.

Harry asked if he could be left alone for a while. Griphook nodded and moved to leave the vault. Just as he reached the doorway, he turned and said quietly, "When you want out just open the doors. I will be waiting in the hallway for when you are ready to come back. Take your time." And with that the goblin was gone and the doors were slammed closed leaving Harry alone with the letter from his parents.

He had never known his parents. What would they have to say to him? Deciding that sitting around looking at it wasn't going to help anything, Harry tore open the envelope and pulled out the first thick sheet of parchment inside. Unfolding it, he began to read.

_Dear Harry,_

_If you're reading this, then Voldemort got to us and you survived. Don't feel guilty that you survived when we didn't, because I know that if I died it was protecting you as best I could. And that is a good death. I'm happy you've lived to reach your majority and I have some very important things to say to you, so please pay attention. This letter is to be burned after you read it and you are not to show it to anyone else, ever._

_Well, I might as well just tell it to you straight kid. Our account manager, Griphook, must have told you that on my side of the family you are a descendant of Merlin. Well, besides getting all his accumulated gold, you also inherit something much more valuable. You see, Merlin was the most powerful wizard in history for a reason. _

_He was chosen by Fate to have a gift. _

_A gift he could use to defeat people who use magic wrongly, who twist it to do things against its natural order. This gift was to see and manipulate magic. With it, Merlin could call power to him and use it instead of the magic residing in his core giving him unlimited power. He could see the auras of other magical beings, how powerful they were, and whether they used magic for light or dark. And, because he could see their magic, he could also snuff it out. He could take a wizard's or creature's magic from them, dissapating it into the ambient magic around them. You see, Harry, magic is neither light nor dark. _

_It just is. _

_It is the intent behind the spells, behind the usage of it that defines it. As an example, a tickling charm is considered light, but if used on an old man with heart problems with the intent to give him a heart attack it could just as easily be dark. Just as the three unforgivables were not dark until someone used them with harmful intent. The Imperious curse was designed as a way to get suicidal people to safety. The Cruciatis for restarting a persons heart, and Avada Kedavra for mercy killings and cattle._

And surprisingly, Harry could understand what his father was saying. It made sense, but it also made him uncomfortable. Voldemort's words from first year ringing through his mind, _**"There is no good and evil, only power and those too weak to seek it." **_That would never be true for him, but he supposed Voldemort was talking about people and not magic itself. People could be evil and cruel, and people could be kind and good. But magic, it made sense that magic was just there. That it didn't have a predilection to dark or light. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more the thought comforted him. He looked down and continued to read.

_Merlin used this gift for good, and so it was passed down from generation to generation. Father to son, any male heir to the line would have the gift. When you reach your majority, you will have it, just as I did._

What! Harry almost dropped the letter from the shock. It couldn't be possible. It couldn't be true. He didn't see magic and he had already reached his majority. He didn't want another gift. He didn't want to be any more weird or freakish than he already was. He never wanted power or fame or anything but to be normal and here he was yet again, bending the laws of Wizarding nature. He must be a favorite of Fate's or something. Maybe she just lived to play with his miserable life. It just wasn't fair! Didn't he have enough to deal with?

The letter floated to the floor. His hands clenched and unclenched the black fabric of his standard Hogwarts robes, the only ones he owned. He just couldn't believe it. But he had to, didn't he? This wasn't going to go away just because he was having a fit of self pity. It wasn't going to help him any. Glaring down at the seemingly innocent looking letter, you'd never know the information inside would be life changing.

He picked up the letter and finished reading.

_Dumbledore informed Lily and I of the prophecy between you and Voldemort and I knew immediately that the power he knows not would be this. You won't get it right away. It will be gradual, first seeing aura's and then the inherent magic in everything. The air, the Earth, all things living and dead, each has magic within it, small or large. I know this must be confusing for you and you might even think I'm completely bonkers, but you must keep this secret. The Wizards must never know or they will fear you for the power you hold. _

_Any creatures you encounter will know because of your scent. It will warn them who and what you are. By the people who know, we are called the Magi, people who know and understand magic to its very foundation. People who are magic incarnate. Tattoos will appear along your body. I don't know what they will be nor how many, but they will be a representation of your magical core._

_I have left you my trunk. It is locked with blood magic so only you can open it. As soon as you drop blood on the trunk, the initials will change to yours and the trunk will change in appearance to suit your personality. Inside, you will find the staff of Merlin. After using your powers for a while, your wand will start to burn out and you will need to use the staff. You can shrink it to wand size to hide it, but it is unbreakable and can handle whatever you put it through. There is also a wand holster made of black mamba's skin. When you shrink the staff, put it in the holster and put the holster on your arm. You can flick your wrist and it will drop into your hand. The holster is magically bonded with the staff and if you lose it or it's taken, it will return to the holster._

_Also inside is Merlin's amulet. It has some protection qualities and proclaims you as Merlin's heir. Once you put it on, it cannot be taken off by anyone but you. When you're in trouble, you can use it to call help to you. Beside the amulet is a bag called a Devil's Bag. I put the charms on it myself. Just reach your hand inside and think of what you want and it will procure it for you. The Sword of Gryffindor is already inside and you can put anything within it without it getting full or heavy._

_The trunk can be shrunk and put on the chain of the amulet for safe keeping. It is also divided into two compartments. One side for the things I left you and the other is a portal into Merlin's Castle. Just step inside and it will take you there. Once there, go into the library and you will find the journals of all the past Magi. It is customary for you to keep a journal; you'll find mine in there as well as a blank leather book for your own thoughts. Happy Birthday my dear Harry. Use it well._

_Love James,_

_Your most beloved Father_

It was mind blowing, and overwhelming. So much information in so little time. No one had ever been able to find Merlin's staff or Castle and here he had them both in his dad's trunk. The irony didn't escape him and he chuckled for a moment before becoming serious. If this gift was going to manifest soon, then he had better learn how to control it. After he read his mother's letter, he would go down into the trunk and figure things out.

His mother's letter was inside the same envelope as his father's, so he took it out and began to read.

_To My Dearest Son,_

_I just want you to know that if you're reading this and we're dead, it wasn't your fault. Your father and I love you more than we could ever express, of course your father wrote you a note that he wouldn't let me read. But he's that way sometimes. I know he's hiding something big from me and always has been, but I accept it and try to forget about it. I just hope whatever it is doesn't hurt you, my son._

_I'm sitting here writing this letter with you eating your breakfast in your highchair next to me. It's silly to think that I'm writing to you when you're right here with me, but I have a feeling James and I won't make it out of this. If that is the case, then just know that we love and cherish you and that we can't wait to see you and talk to you through the paintings. I hope you're safe and that Padfoot takes care of you. I left you some things you might need for this war as well as some things to have fun. Don't let this war consume you Harry, make sure you have time to be a teenager. With that said, I put some things in the Devil's bag for you in your father's trunk. My old throwing pins and my fighting daggers. Learn to use them well so they can protect you. I love you with all my heart._

_Your Mother,_

_Lily_

Compared to the other letters this one was short, simple, but all the more heart breaking for it. He couldn't imagine a younger him anymore. An innocent baby unaware of the turmoil the world around him was in. He couldn't picture being that ignorant; it had always seemed as if he was born knowing he had a Dark Lord to kill. But logically, he knew that wasn't the case. It was just startling to have it shoved in his face that he had once been a normal Wizarding baby going about everyday baby life. He would hold this image of his mother and him at the breakfast table close to his heart in times of darkness. It would help him through this horrible situation and give him strength.

Harry stood up and folded the letters into a pocket of his robes. All three of them sat there, heavy with emotional weight. He walked over to the trunk with the initials J.P. and sank to his knees in front of it. Looking around, he found a very garish knife lying among the piles of gold and leaned over to grab it. Holding it tightly he drew it across his palm lightly, grimacing from the discomfort and smeared his blood across the front of a seemingly lockless trunk.

The trunk hissed in warning and popped open along some invisible seam. Harry shuffled forward on his knees and looked over the edge of the admittedly large trunk. As stated in the letter, it was divided into two compartments. One side was a simple drawer like contraption holding a wand, an amulet, and a lumpy little bag.

Harry took out the wand, not really believing what he was holding in his hand, but he could feel the power thrumming from it. It looked simple enough; a light but warm looking wood, maybe teak, somehow swirled with two other woods of darker color. One looked like redwood and had the tint of red it was named for; the other was even darker and almost looked like rowan. But that was impossible! No one had been able to use Rowan wood in a wand since ever, it was just too volatile! Well, maybe the other woods balanced it out? Looking it over closely, Harry found some minuscule markings that looked like runes spiraling up the whole wand and a small green stone situated at the tip and embedded halfway. Harry wondered what it was, it looked like an emerald, but the intensity of the color put him off that conclusion.

He put the wand back into the trunk, reluctant to replace his beloved phoenix feather wand so quickly, despite the warmth he had felt holding Merlin's Staff. Well, he thought, might as well call it my staff now seeing as it belongs to me.

He took out the amulet next, but couldn't see anything remarkable about it. A complicated Celtic knot housed a similar stone as the Wand, though slightly bigger, right in the middle. If he looked closely he could see runes like the ones on the Wand etched into the gold of the knot on all its twisting tendrils. He put it back just as efficiently as the Wand and reached for the knapsack. It was brown and made of a strange material that resembled burlap, but was much softer to the touch. Almost like spun wool. He opened the ties at the top and tried to peek inside, but all he could see was blackness. Putting it back down beside him, he pulled his father's letter out again.

_"Just reach your hand inside and think of what you want and it will procure it for you."_

He read and looked down at the bag skeptically. Picking it up again, he reached his whole arm inside then thought of a manual or index of some sort telling him the things that had been put in it and how to use them and the bag. He almost yelped in surprise as something slapped into his open palm and quickly retracted his arm to see a thin booklet of paper in his hand. Looking at it curiously, he opened it and started to read the things that had been already put into the bag. The Booklet listed his mother's pins and daggers and the Sword of Gryffindor, but it also said it held Merlin's Grimoire! Harry just wondered when he would stop being shocked by all the strange things that happened to him and all the things that weren't supposed to exist that he now owned. Sighing deeply he continued reading. There were a couple of keys for various estates and a few objects he would have to take a look at later, but that seemed about it. He flipped to the section that detailed how the bag worked.

It was just as his father said; he just had to reach his hand inside and essentially wish for what he wanted. He read further and discovered that the bag couldn't be touched or taken from him without his express permission. He found the same to be true for if someone tried to take something out of it. They would need his permission first or they would get a nasty shock. He also couldn't lose the bag, for it would always return to the trunk. He thought this was a genius idea; at least he couldn't lose it and would never have to look for it.

Smiling slightly, he placed the Booklet back in the bag and drew the strings, putting it back into the trunk. After situating it just right, he glanced over to the blank compartment that was meant to lead to Merlin's Castle. He knew he shouldn't stretch out his time here, but the curiosity was eating at him. He stood, robes swishing around his ankles as he walked to the side of the trunk he would have to step into to get there. He contemplated the blackness and guardedly put his right leg into the trunk, quickly following it with his left when he felt a solid bottom to where he was stepping. As he stood fully in the compartment, he braced himself for anything and was slightly disappointed to have nothing happen for a long minute.

Relaxing a bit, he thought maybe it was broken and wouldn't take him to Merlin's Castle... As soon as he thought the name "Merlin's Castle" he was whisked away in a manner reminiscent of a portkey. He landed with a thump on his stomach on the hard marble floors of somewhere. Groaning, he heaved himself up on his arms and sat on his heels, adjusting his glasses when his hands were free. The sight that greeted him was awe-inspiring.

He was kneeling in a foyer of brown marble streaked with a darker brown and flecked with beige and peach undertones. The floor seemed to be one solid mass of stone dotted with rugs of varying age, from a bear skin that looked ancient to a Persian that seemed to only be a hundred years old at most. The walls were paneled in large painted squares depicting what appeared to be scenes from the extremely detailed murals were ordered chronologically. Goblin wars, uprisings, and various famous wizards were immortalized on these walls. There was one of a younger Merlin than the painting in his vault, standing on a hill staff in hand, hair and silvery cloak streaming behind him in a fierce wind. It was very intimidating, and no wonder when across from that painting was a picture of the beautiful Morgana Le Fay, standing regally and poised in a deep red gown with gold trim and cloak of black velvet. She smiled tauntingly at the seemingly unaffected Merlin and Harry wondered breifly if they had ever traded insults over the years?

Shaking his head in amusement at the thought, he looked at the rest of the room. There was a huge fireplace large enough to roast an ox whole along one wall, the mantle, a dark wood carved into swirls, looked distinctly masculine. Objects that Harry couldn't identify sat atop it and hanging on the wall above was a mirror. The mirror itself was gold framed and heavy looking, facing the other wall where huge curtained windows battled for space with the paintings. Even the sills of the many paned windows had small, delicate carvings on them depicting vines and leaves with flowers budding occasionally. There were a few old fashioned arm chairs along the walls interspersed with end tables holding flowers in vases that seemed untouched by time. At the other end of the room was a large staircase that led to the second story. Red carpeting flowed down the steps and the wooden knewl posts and banisters were sparkling. Beside the fireplace was a heavy oak door, magnificently carved with mythical creatures. They were closed for now, but Harry would bet that they led to a formal sitting room of some kind.

Twisting his torso around, he looked behind him to see a set of doors even more impressive than the ones leading to the sitting room. They were huge, at least three times as tall as he himself was, and thick. Carved with runic symbols, they were seriously intimidating and he wondered how anyone could ever open them alone. Above the arch of the doors was a curved string of words in Latin.

_**Vir Consilii Sors Ridet.**_

Harry thought quickly, closing his eyes and throwing his head back in laughter when he finally understood.

_**"Man Plans, Fate Laughs." **_

Indeed, he thought to himself. Opening his eyes, head still back on his shoulders, he spied the ceiling for the first time and gasped in wonder. The whole ceiling looked like a Michael Angelo painting. More suited to a cathedral than a Castle. Mythical creatures ran through forested valleys and ripe meadows while beautiful people in strange clothes glided through it all in serene enjoyment. Most of the landscape was bathed in a golden, sunlit glow and the whole scene struck him as surreal.

It was hard to tear his eyes away from the fantastical creatures, but when he did he noticed the people weren't human as he thought. Maybe they were long forgotten Gods of some sort, with their glowing skin and beauty, but then with shock he noticed the pointed ears. He'd thought human looking Elves didn't exist anymore?

He'd been a bit disappointed when he learned that Dobby and his kind were all that was Elvish on Earth. It had bothered him so much that he had researched it in third year. He had found that the Elves that were more human looking were called High Elves and had left Earth millennia ago when Wizards became more common. He had since been fascinated with their disappearance and had read up on the subject as much as he could. Hermione had been baffled that the only voluntary reading he had done was on a creature that no longer existed on this Earth or maybe even at all. He knew as much about them as the Wizarding world as a whole, reading anything about them he could get his hands on.

He couldn't explain the strange fixation he had for them, but it burned strongly as he realized what he was looking at. They were as beautiful as he imagined and more. Their grace unequaled and the glow they carried, heavenly. The scene on the ceiling portrayed them walking, hunting, and socializing with others of their kind, all in a forest alight with a blueish glow. Huge trees had stairs attached to them, twisting and wrapping around the trunks looking as one with the forest. He wondered desperately where they led. It seemed so peaceful there, so completely care free that he yearned to be there with those unearthly creatures, to bask in their calming presence. As if his thought had been heard, one of the Elves turned and looked down upon him, the others going on about their business. None of them seemed to see the other in their midst who was... like them, but oh so different at the same time

This Elf was extremely tall with long, silvery blonde hair that reached down His back. His pointed features seemed even more gorgeous than the others' while still remaining masculine. But it was His eyes that drew Harry's like a moth to flame. Bluer than the Circassian Sea, and holding what seemed like an infinite amount of knowledge and patience. He wanted to fall into those eyes, and be a part of something he sensed was important, but couldn't really understand.

The Elf's eyes fixed on him, gaze assessing. Harry felt as though he were being judged, to see if he was worthy, though of what he had no clue. After a long minute He seemed to decide, nodded once to Harry, then disappeared into the crowd of other elves. It was like the sun going out, an essential warmth suddenly absent. Harry lifted a hand as if to call Him back, mouth opening, but no sound escaped and the arm slowly fell back to his side.

A little unsettled by the strange encounter, Harry schooled his emotions and finally moved from the floor. Looking around, he made his own decision and started exploring the rest of the castle, inspecting it from top to bottom.

Through the doors beside the fireplace was indeed a formal sitting room with an office attached. After further exploration, Harry discovered the kitchens, formal dining room, informal dining room, study, armory complete with weapons from every era, training room, countless bedrooms and washrooms, and quite a few empty rooms, all on the first floor and in excellent condition. The next several floors consisted of more sitting rooms, bedrooms, parlors, and bathrooms except for the fifth which was servants quarters.

When Harry got to the second to top floor, he discovered a long hallway with large double doors at the end almost as intricate as the ones he assumed went outside. He swung open the doors to see the master suite. The whole of it was beautifully done in dark blues and greens with silver and gold accents. There was a huge four poster bed with green and silver sheets and hangings on a raised platform against the wall across from the door. It was big enough to fit ten people and had dark wood end tables on each end that matched the bed. Against the left wall was a desk of the same wood and a door he assumed led to a washroom. On the right was a dresser and another door he discovered was a walk-in closet. Also to the right were a set of stairs that he immediately climbed only to find himself in the open air.

This was the top of the tower, and it was spectacular! The roof sloped upwards to a point and there was a half wall made of stone surrounding all 360 degrees. Columns held up the roof and served as breaks between what looked like webbing intricately woven between them. The web sparkled in the sunlight, but Harry couldn't figure out why it was there except for simple decoration. However, the clusters and lines on it looked deliberate. Well, a mystery for another time, he thought.

In the center of the room was a pedestal as tall as mid-chest, upon which sat what looked like and orb of some kind covered in cloth. He was about to unviel it, but something stopped him. A subconscious warning that he couldn't handle whatever this was just quite yet. Harry had learned to trust his instincts, and he listened to it now, leaving the orb for another day. Looking around again, the landscape passed the web struck him. There were trees as far as the eye could see.

Old trees.

Older than the ones in the forbidden forest. Much older. For a second he wondered where exactly he was, then realized he didn't care seeing as he was safe.

Looking down, he found that the entire castle was a large square with five towers, one in each corner as well as the center. There was the main castle, an inner square building surrounded by outer walls with walkways on top. Short hallways connecting the towers at it's corners to the main castle. In between the halls were small, well-tended courtyards overflowing with blooms and vegetation. In the center of each of these was a feature using one of the four main elements. The young wizard walked back down to ground level and into the first courtyard he found.

The North courtyard had a simple, but gorgeous fountain of water. The East courtyard had an orb of flames floatng in the center that changed color from red and orange to green, blue, and gold when Harry walked out. He suspected the color changed to the color or colors of a person's aura as they drew near it. He would have to test this somehow later, or try to find something, a book maybe, explaining it.

The South courtyard turned out to be the front of the castle, the enormous doors from earlier even more detailed from the outside. In the center of this courtyard stood a statue of a very beautiful woman made seemingly of dark brown earth. She was clothed in nothing but what looked like large ribbons and faced another set of even larger doors that were very plain compared to all the others Harry had seen so far. There was no plaque or anything to identify the woman and Harry wondered who she was. He felt drawn to her with a sense of familiarity, as if he had known her his entire life but hadn't seen her in a while.

Finally turing from the statue with a shake of his head, Harry explored the West courtyard. This courtyard had a clear column in the center inside of which different colored winds swirled and contorted into different shapes every few seconds. After thoroughly checking the outside, Harry moved on to the towers.

The first tower he explored was the in the Northwest corner and seemed to contain shelves upon shelves of magical objects. After a cursory look, he moved onto the next. The tower in the Southwest seemed to be a general armory for soldiers or the village if there was one. The Southeast tower seemed to be an observatory, nothing but stairs till he got to the very top. There were many telescopes, charts, and maps with strange places and the ceiling was so clear it was as if there was none. It was better than Hogwarts! The last tower was a very welcome surprise. It turned out to be a library.

He gasped at the sheer size and the number of books on the shelves that covered every inch of the massive, circular room. The book shelves seemed to go up for miles, lining the walls up at least six stories. In the center sat a writing desk and a podium with an enormous book on it. Walking over to the podium, Harry flipped open the book only to find it was an index of every book in the library. He wondered if it worked similarly to the one in Hogwarts and spoke for the first time since entering the castle.

"Merlin Family Journals." His voice was dry and it cracked once making him clear his throat as the book flipped its pages. Apparently it did work the same.

The Index flipped to the F's and there it was,_ Family Journals_. They were on the shelves behind the writing desk on the first floor, so Harry wandered over to the desk first. On it was two leather-bound books and as Harry picked them up he could see the initials J.P. on one. The other was blank. His eyes burned and he was quite shocked when he reached a hand up to wipe them and it came away wet.

All of a sudden he was sobbing hard, at circumstance, at fate, at the world, Voldemort, and everything. It just wasn't fair. He was so filled with emotion, happiness and sadness, frustration and anger. Hope. He was tired too. So completely exhausted of dealing with his life and the surprises in it that his knees gave out on him and he sank to the floor, shoulders shaking.

Then he thought of his friends and how they needed him to be strong for them, to save them.

It hardened him in that moment. In that moment, he was no longer Harry James Evans Potter, sniveling Savior, Boy-Who-Lived Extraordinaire. He was Harry James Evans Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World, Heir of Merlin, Magi, Warrior for Magic, and Future Defeater of Voldemort. Harry may have thought that his coming of age would change him into a man, but that was only half of it. His fundamental change from boy to warrior took place now, in Merlin's Castle, on the floor, in the Library. Tear tracks making his face look swollen and splotchy. It was here that one of the greatest Wizards to ever live was forged.

**Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Recently Edited.**

**Love, E.**

**Hit this button to forestall the apocalypse! Or at least the end of this story.**

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	2. Bloody Bloody Warfare

**Author's Note: Here's Chapter Two. The end of this chapter and the next chapter are going to diverge more and more into the Lord of the Rings world until Harry is immersed in it completely. Please thank my lovely Beta, Soccerqueen237, for saving this story!**

"Speech"

_~Parseltongue~_

***Flashback***

_Letters_

* * *

**Bloody Bloody Warfare**

* * *

_"War is cruel. The crueler it is, the faster it is over."_

Harry stood rooted in place on the battlefield, staring at the complete and total destruction around him. He had been prepared, along with the rest of the D.A., for the inevitable deaths, but he could never have imagined the true massacre that had taken place.

His battle robes, covered in blood both his and others', seemed to be the only thing not destroyed. Open cuts and abraisions still oozed all across his face and hands, the only body parts exposed. Harry's eyesight had been fixed so he wore no glasses, his uncovered green eyes looked ethereal in the post-dawn light. His longer hair was matted with dirt and debris from the spells that had hit the ground, the explosions sending bits of earth flying. An earlier spell had shattered his phoenix wand.

Harry gazed at the smoking corpses with a distant sense of horror, his mind detached from what he was experiencing. Friends, loved ones, and even enemies were piled atop of one another, with no regards to the boundaries set in life. All were human, finite; he was not.

The castle was in ruins, rubble tumbling to the ground. Everyone outside of it's protecting walls had been caught in the blast, including Voldemort. Hermione had been at his back, fighting off the Death Eaters to buy him time and let him focus purely on killing the snake faced bastard. Now, she lay face down on the ground, her back side a charred mass that was barely distinguishable from the others except for an untouched shock of bushy brown hair.

Ron, Neville, Luna, Ginny, Remus, Tonks, Moody, Dumbledore, all dead. All because of him, they were now fleshy, charred remains for the vultures to feed upon. But on the bright side, so were Voldemort, Lucius, Bellatrix, McNair and all the other Death Eaters that had been outside. Harry didn't really know what had happened. He hadn't been prepared for this outcome. Thinking back on his training, he could remember how happy everyone had been, despite the serious times.

***Flashback***

_After finally figuring out how to leave Merlin's Castle, Harry had found himself standing once again inside the trunk. His next move had been to activate the portraits, no longer plagued the nervousness that had crippled him earlier. For long hours he talked with Sirius, his parents, and his ancestors, gaining confidence through their reassurances that they would help him. He took the portraits off the wall and put them in his trunk so they could help him train. The trunk itself had changed, just as his father had said in his letter. It was now made of a dark, smooth mahogany wood engraved with scenes of a forest complete with panthers, snakes, and other such animals that moved. The edges were a fiery obsidian with mother of pearl locks that shone with radiance. His initials appeared on the top and sides, engraved in emerald._

_Well, he thought, it suits me more than the previous red and gold._

_Shrinking Sirius' trunk, he put it and the rest of his things, except Merlin's Amulet and staff, the Devil's Bag and wand holster, and his new battle robes, into his trunk. First, he looked at the battle robes, shining softly like silk in the torch light. Deciding that putting them on now would be a good start, he disrobed and slowly fastened on the new clothing, saving the boots for last. The shirt and pants fit like a glove, while remaining flexible and breathable. The long-sleeved robes fit over that and the boots went up to his knees, the tread allowing for good traction and the fit tight enough for good control. Harry fastened the cloak over-top, leaving the hood down. He'd thought the clothing would be extremely hot, but was pleasantly surprised to find it wasn't._

_After strapping on the wand holster and fitting Merlin's Staff into it, Harry conjured up a mirror to take a look. He almost didn't recognize himself. He looked dangerous and fierce and ready to do battle with anyone or anything. It suited him, with his slightly shaggy hair framing his face. Harry smirked in pleasure and banished the mirror before turning and looking through the rest of his vaults. _

_He started grabbing items of interest or books of importance, flitting from one room to the next, and threw them in the trunk. When he was satisfied with his sweep, Harry closed the lid. Making sure it was sealed, he said the charm to shrink it and attached it to the Amulet's chain before pulling the chain over his head and tucking the amulet into the front of his robes. He transfigured a sturdy, black leather belt with a silver buckle from his old school robes and clipped it around his hips. The teen then took the Devil's bag and charmed all the gold in the vault to fly into it, leaving the room achingly bare. Tying the bag's string onto his belt, he covered it with his robes and started for the doors._

_Harry stalked out of the vault with his possessions on his person, looking every inch the warrior that he was aiming to be and Griphook nodded his approval. Walking back to the cart, Harry asked Griphook if he could have a map of Potter Manor in London so he could apparate. When the goblin said yes, Harry nodded to him in respect and they rode the cart up to the surface. It was strange to think of how much he had changed since going down, and that a simple trip underground had changed him so fundamentally. Harry left Gringotts with the promise to be back tomorrow to collect the map to his ancestral home. He was never going back to the Dursley's again._

_After staying the night at the Leaky Cauldron, Harry went back to Gringotts to collectthe map, apparating to Potter Manor afterwards and resizing his trunk in the master bedroom. Deciding to get started on his training, he stepped inside and was whirled away. Harry spent the summer being trained at Merlin's Castle by Merlin, the Founders, Sirius, and his parents. The castle was somewhat sentient, much like Hogwarts. He learned that if asked politely, the castle could provide him with the things he needed. Harry had the training room set up with magical dummies to battle against and spent most of his time in there. At night he would curl up in bed to read his dad's journal, or sometimes he would write in his own._

_The young teen recorded his entire life from what he could remember up to the present in his journal; He left nothing out and detailed how he thought, dealt with, and felt about certain situations. Harry learned from Merlin, and from the writings of his dad and the other Magi, how to use and control his gift. The changes started slowly, at first just being able to feel a flicker of his magical core while in meditation, but everyday it seemed to grow larger. More magic adding to it, the spark encompassing more and more of his body until one day, it swelled to engulf him entirely. As it did, his world burst into glorious colors and pulsing auras. He could see the wards and magic of the castle, the paintings, and even himself._

_It was beautiful and amazing. As he got used to this new quirk of vision, he woke up one morning to find that his magic had fixed any physical imperfections he might have had, erasing all scars except the famous bolt on his forehead and correcting his eyesight. He also saw the faint beginnings of colored tattoos on his skin, as to what they would be, he could not yet tell. After talking with Merlin and his father, he also learned that as soon as he mastered his gift he would be immortal, ceasing to age. Harry could be killed, but the extreme amount of magic in and around his body would replenish his cells constantly, causing him to heal slightly faster than normal mortals and assuring his agelessness. He was not looking forward to that and hoped to not master his gift until he was at least twenty._

_In the meantime, his mum had been working with him on his fashion sense. One of the only times Harry had left the castle was to go clothes shopping. He shrunk his mother and father's portrait and made it into another charm for Merlin's amulet. Going into his first Wizarding stores that were not Madame Malkin's, both parents helped him pick out robes of different colors, styles, and fabrics._

_After grabbing everything he would need from the Wizarding section, Harry trekked into Muggle London to a mall the Durselys had once dragged him to. While trying on a few outfits, his mother had thrown out the comment that he would have to beat the girls off with a stick. This led to him revealing to his parents that he might, in fact, be just a little bent. _

_After a very embarrassing question from his father on whether he was dominant or submissive, to which his reply was a stuttering unsure with submissive leanings, his mother squealed and directed him over to another section. There they made him try on skinny jeans and some leather pants that were extremely tight. Combat boots and some trench coats followed, as well as some black army cargo pants and regular jeans. Some regular Converse All-Stars in a myriad of colors were next._

_He liked the sort of punk rock style, as his mother called it, and decided to complete the look. Lots of mesh and "Saying" t-shirts in royal purple, red, and black. Some ripped jeans. Chokers, wristlets, and arm braces were next. Moving on to body jewelry, he decided to get one ear and his tongue pierced. It wasn't too painful, but he had to argue with his parents about it before they finally gave in after the statement that he had never really gotten anything he'd wanted living with the Dursleys. _

_Looking over the different tongue bars, he bought one platinum with Emeralds at both ends and one 24k gold with Rubies. After looking at the earrings, he decided to get a couple custom made. One was designed to look like a pheonix in 24k gold, Peridot and Ruby stones detailing the feathers with Opals for eyes. The other was a basilisk made of platinum with Citrine eyes and Emerald and Russian Diopside scales._

_After that, it was with dubious interest that he headed to the make-up station. The extremely nice emo man there showed him how to line his eyes with Kohl, so they stood out. After some prolific flirting that had him trying to cover his mother's giggles, he learned that he didn't need anything else as his complexion was near perfect. His father laughed as they left the shop with hands full of bags, some different colored sticks of Kohl in one of them._

_After a quick trip to the loo to change and put his things in his trunk, Harry walked through the mall in one of his new outfits with some of the black kohl he had just bought lining his eyes, making them look larger than normal. While he attracted many stares, some envious, some leering, and others hateful, he just ignored them and continued his shoppng. _

_He was wearing black skinny jeans with a black tank top and one of the nicer black leather trench coats he had bought. This one had a red silk lining, while the other two had emerald green and black. A studded, black leather belt held his Devil's Bag and keept it hidden. Black standard combat boots were laced onto his feet and a black choker accentuated his graceful neck. His hair, longer since the beginning of summer, was tied back with a red velvet ribbon, and his tongue and ear were graced with the Ruby tongue bar and Phoenix earring. He portrayed the seductive soldier style his mum had planned._

_Passing a fountain depicting an angel holding an urn spilling water, he saw an Apple store and his curiosity overwhelmed him. He had heard the Muggleborns in Hogwarts talking about their iPods, complaining that they didn't work around the ambient magic. The Dursley's never let him have anything relatively expensive, so Harry immediately wanted to have one just to spite them._

_Entering the store, he was spotted immediately by a busty brunette clerk who rushed to help him. The teenage Muggle girl sidled up close to him, pressing her breasts to his arm as she guided him to the assistance desk._

_"Hi!" she fluttered her lashes in a way that, to her, seemed seductive. Harry thought she looked like she was having a seizure. "Can I help you with something?"_

_"Yes, actually." Harry said, disentangling himself from her arms. "I would like to see the different iPods you have, and could you explain the differences to me, please?"_

_The girl gave him a disappointed look, but went around and reached under the counter for her displays. After explaining the different technology, Harry chose a 64 gigabyte 4th generation iPod. Figuring he would need a laptop also, he bought one of those as well. He got a case for the iPod and the laptop with the same design, a very macabre painting with the words 'Dark Subconscious' on it in purple, gothic writing. (link to painting on profile)_

_He placed the items on the counter and then sprinkled them liberally with iTunes cards, paying for them and thanking the clerk, who pouted as he walked away. Across the way was another store that peaked his interest. It was called Hot Topic. He went in and immediately started to go crazy, buying things left and right. Knee high lace up boots, bracelets, bangles, and different knick-knacks plus some headphones he'd thought looked cool. The box came with two different sets and a splice, which the clerk explained to him. _

_Soon, he came upon a whole wall of band T-shirts and other shirts with designs on them. Looking through them, he bought ten shirts of bands that he liked, having heard Dudley listen to them. Incubus, Three Days Grace, A7X, Staind, and Linkin Park amongst them. About half way down the isle he stopped and doubled over laughing, not quite believing his eyes._

_There was a black t-shirt with a square picture on the front. It was of an old man dressed in wizard robes very similar to the crazy confections Dumbledore wore, Wizarding hat and all. He was holding a staff with an orb of crystal at the tip, standing at the edge of a cliff with roiling waves at the bottom. He had summoned the wind and it caused the waves to come up and soak him. Beneath the picture were large white letters saying, 'Silly Wizard!'_

_Harry couldn't stop laughing! It was just too rich! Finally calming down, he put two on the pile that he was buying and took it all over to the counter. After making his purchases and walking out of the store, Harry headed out of the mall and into a dark alleyway between buildings. First he discreetly took out his wand and cast a mild healing charm on his tongue to stop the swelling, his Magi gift would heal it the rest of the way later. Shrinking all his packages, he put them in this trunk and then apparated away to Potter Manor._

_When he first wore the shirt to practice, everyone laughed, even Merlin, whom the wizard resembled slightly._

***Flashback End***

It had been two years since then, and after the summer was over, Harry had headed back to Hogwarts for his final year. Hermione and Ron had greeted him enthusiastically and asked about his summer. He'd told them everything, except his status as Magus, even taking them to Merlin's Castle to meet his ancestors.

Nothing too extraordinary happened that year. He learned magic by day, and his gift and physical fighting by night. Time basically stood still when he was down in Merlin's Castle, Hermione theorized that it was in another dimension, so he accomplished much more that he wouldn't have been able to otherwise. Dumbledore didn't pry, only smiled slightly in amusement and left him to himself. It wasn't until his friends and he had graduated from Hogwarts that things really began to stir.

Over the next year Voldemort and his ilk became exponentially more active. Raids happened almost every other day. The Order started sending him and a select group of others to assassinate or arrest known Death Eaters. Harry's eighteenth birthday passed him by. By his nineteenth birthday, the Wizarding World was ravaged with fear and depression. People on the streets begged him to end it.

And the end was nigh; he could feel it in the air. The war was coming to a close. Soon.

One hot August day, Harry was in St. Mungo's visiting the people and families who had been injured in the latest raid. It boosted moral when the Wizarding Community could actually see their Savior in person, knowing that he cared for them individually. He was currently holding the hand of a little blonde boy who'd had the entire left side of his face charred away by an Incendio that had merely grazed him. He was not even Hogwarts age. His mother and father had escaped unscathed and were sitting beside his bed. When he'd come in, they had stood and looked at him with awe.

He was still in his torn and ragged clothing from the raid the night before, not having the time once the alarm had sounded to put on his battle robes. Dirty and smudged with sweat and ash from the burning buildings, he had made quite the picture standing on the threshhold of the boy's hospital room. The parents had told him that the boy, Dalton, had said he would come today and they hadn't believed him. When Harry looked at Dalton, he could see the seer abilities hovering about the boy, his aura clearer than ordinary people's. He had strode to the boy's side and asked if he had seen this visit.

Dalton said he had and was so happy Harry was here. After telling the parents what the boy was, to their awe and confusion, they'd told him he was Dalton's idol. A hero, causing Harry to flinch inside. He hated being the hero. Eventually he'd sat down in a chair next to Dalton and they'd talked for over an hour, some of the boy's comments actually making Harry laugh. As Harry was retelling the adventure of the Chamber of Secrets to the excited boy and covertly rapt parents, a frantic Medi-witch rushed into the room screaming for Mr. Potter.

Harry jumped up, his expression guarded until the young woman slid to a stop in front of him.

"Mr. Potter! Thank Merlin! I just got an urgent Floo from Headmistress McGonagall saying Hogwarts is being attacked by Death Eaters with You-Know-Who in the lead!" the woman panted with her hand to her chest, trying to catch her breath.

The parents, Dalton, and the Medi-witch witnessed a frightening change in the young man before them. His expression morphed to one of pure fury and determination. His eyes glinted with power and anticipation. The Medi-witch curled into herself and the parents backed against the wall as Harry's wand flicked into his hand and the Sword of Gryffindor appeared in the other. Dalton just stared at him with wide eyes.

Harry looked up to the ceiling, but snapped his head around to Dalton as the boy whispered something into the deafening quiet of the room. "Please sir. Help my sister. She's in there. Please."

The pitiful pleading struck something in Harry, something that before had been unattainable; but it strengthened his will and forged the core of his being just a little bit stronger. His tattoos glowed, swirling across his skin in waves of all colors, causing the people in the room to gasp. He stalked closer to the bed, leaned over, and looked deep into the one eye that was uncovered on the boy, his emerald green connecting with sky blue.

"I will. I will save every child in Hogwarts if it kills me, including your sister."

The boy looked at him seriously, as if he had just made him the greatest of vows, and indeed it felt that way. Dalton nodded once and his eyes unfocused as Harry's continued to meet them. In a small, lost voice the young boy whispered something for Harry's ears alone that sent a chill down his spine.

"You will save my sister and all the students of Hogwarts, but it will come at a terrible price. You will lose everything, but gain something eternal. After this is over, you will never be seen again." Dalton's eyes closed in exhaustion and Harry stood back up, collecting himself and turning to look at the Nurse.

"Floo the Ministry, make sure they're informed with haste," His voice deep and commanding as he flicked his wand and his battle robes appeared. He had no modesty anymore and disrobed right there infront of all and sundry, causing the adults to blush and turn away.

As soon as the Medi-witch acknowledged that she'd heard him, he apparated right through the wards of St. Mungo's with a smirk and right into the middle of the battle taking place on Hogwarts' grounds.

Immediately, Harry gathered some of the residual magic of St. Mungo's and Hogwarts' broken wards and sent it out in a blast wave. Any enemy within a 20-yard radius was killed instantly, leaving the defenders untouched. The battle halted for a moment at the massive display of power, allies and not all turning towards his grand entrance to stare with either awe and hope, or fear and hate. Blushing a bit at their stares, and thinking to himself that this was the most ridiculous time to blush, Harry fired a curse at the nearest Death Eater, breaking the moment and resuming the battle.

Harry fought his way up to the castle and stood in front of the massive broken doors, killing any enemy who tried to enter. This bought time for McGonagall to try and repair the doors with some of the older students. He stood there, killing Death Eaters left and right until the doors were fixed. Turning back, he saw that McGonagall and six 7th years were gaping at him as he fired off another curse without looking and it struck it's target perfectly, his Magi senses coming into play.

"Professor," He said as calmly as he could while making sure she could hear him over the noise of the battle. "Don't you think it would be prudent to close the doors now?"

This seemed to snap her from her trance and she gathered the students and closed the doors to the school. Harry put up a powerful shield around him as he drew the rest of the magic from the ruined wards. Harry put his hands to the repaired wood, bracing himself against it. Gathering the magic into his hands, he warded the door with the most powerful wards he could think of. The blood from one of his hands where he had caught a curse only helped to make them stronger. Now, no one could open them from the outside, only those inside could open them.

Turning back to the battle, he felt his shield collapse under the pressure of an overwhelmingly strong curse. Harry was thrown back against the doors with a loud boom. As he slid down the doors, he could see out of the corner of his eye, the faces of McGonagall and some of the students staring at him in horror from the warded windows of the entrance hall. His mind diverged back to when he learned that the windows of Hogwarts were warded separately so students didn't accidently break or fall out of one.

Shaking his dizzy head to clear it, he rolled to the side as another curse flew towards him, watching in satisfaction as the wards around the doors held as it smashed into them.

Getting to his feet, he forcibly pulled his head back in the game as he spotted Voldemort standing less than ten feet from him. He dodged the killing curse as he thought of what to do.

"What? No inane, boorish banter today Tommy boy?" He taunted, trying to buy himself some time to plan. He almost smiled as he heard the gasps from inside the castle and around the battlefield. Yes, he had just taunted the big bad Dark Lord, so what?

Voldemort snarled and sent a barrage of curses his way, which he either dodged or deflected. The fight went on in this manner, both of them taking and giving hits until both were sporting several minor injuries. Sometime during the fight, Hermione had come to guard his back from the Death Eaters that had decided to try to aid their master. They had migrated to the center of the battlefield and Harry could feel his strength waning. He might have unlimited power, but it still took focus and strength to channel it. The only good point was that Voldy looked worse. Both were panting for breath and struggling to dodge the spells sent their way. Eventually a spell would hit one of them, and after another minute one did.

Harry got hit with a powerful disarming spell and his wand, already mostly burned out from the powerful magic coursing through it, shattered. The phoenix feather wand no more than ash in the wind. The few still alive and fighting watched in shock, awe, or horrified silence as it happened.

Harry had forgotten Merlin's wand on his arm and thought he was done for as he watched the Dark Lord smirk and his aura flare as he readied one last mega blast of magic to finish his long time enemy. At that moment, time slowed for Harry as he watched the magic travel down Voldemort's wand. As he anticipated his coming death, a strange memory assaulted him. It was of him sneaking into the living room while Dudley watched Saturday morning cartoons. He had sat in a shadowed corner and watched as a coyote kept trying to get this roadrunner. He was pumping water into this cave to try and draw him out, but the smart roadrunner stepped on the hose. The water backed up and the hose exploded the coyote up into the air.

As he pictured it clearly in his mind, his brain kept focusing on the backed up hose and it exploding until finally he took the impromtue clue from Merlin knows where! It was the only way he could think of to save himself and to not fail those he had promised to save.

In the slowed moment in time, Harry exploded into action. His hands came up and squeezed in front of him, blocking the magic from leaving the tip of Voldemort's wand. The Dark Lord had only a moment to look confused and then horrified as he felt his own magic doubling back down his wand towards him.

With a flash of white light so bright Harry had to shield his eyes to keep from going blind, a blaze of heat flashed over him, burning him alive until he thought he would collapse or turn to ash. Harry felt something inside his head scream piercingly before withering. Then all of a sudden, everything was eerily silent, too quiet to be natural.

Harry slowly opened his eyes to see the field blackened and charred for yards around him. Black lumps of ash and char made the landscape seem lumpy as he failed to comprehend what had just occured. But ignorance couldn't last forever. It was slowly coming to him what was lying on the ground. And that was where he was, standing on the battlefield taking in those who had died.

He felt utterly alone standing by himself in the middle of the destruction. No words came to him for the devastation he felt at this moment. What had happened? And then he thought about it. The backlash must have been more than he thought and it had burned everything in the vicinity, but then why wasn't he dead? Oh, yes. The Horcruxes. He had learned of those and the Hallows whe n he was seventeen and hadn't given much thought to it after that, having had a plan for destroying those. It appeared the magic had done that for him. But at what price?

Looking around, he couldn't say it was worth it. Unbound hair flowing out behind him, Harry turned towards the castle as he heard the giant doors creak open. Headmistress McGonagall and the rest of the students were flooding out of the entrance hall to see the gruesome aftermath. Even the first years, which Harry thought was wrong. They shouldn't see this.

He looked at McGonagall, about to tell her this when he saw her expression. She was looking at him with a mixture of emotion. Despair, horror, awe, anger, joy, confusion, and grief were just some of the ones he saw, all fighting and clashing together in her eyes. That was when the children started crying, and then it all crashed down on him at once.

Everyone he loved, gone. Dead by his hand. Harry then realized he still had Merlin's wand tucked in the holster on his arm. He could've used it instead of doing what he had. It didn't have to be this way. This was his entire fault, all because he forgot he had an extra wand. It was a stupid mistake for people to die for and he wanted to weep, but he couldn't even manage that. He turned from McGonagall and looked up at the sky in anguish, his exhaustion finally catching up to him.

Right as he was about to collapse, several things happened. First, he heard several pairs of running feet and concerned calls of his name, but that wasn't possible! Everyone must hate him now! Even he hated himself for his dumb mistake, how could they not? Second, he imagined the fresco on the ceiling of Merlin's castle, the peaceful glen full of happy creatures and statuesque elves. They all looked so untouched by war or anything real life could throw at you, and in that moment he wished with all his heart to be there.

Somewhere, in a magical castle, in a magical land, a High Elf in a painting on a ceiling smiled mysteriously and laughed in joy, raising his hands to the heavens.

A multi-colored beam of light fell on Harry as he collapsed, to the astonishment of those watching. McGonagall stuttered to a stop in awe and fear as the beam's light grew in intensity and then vanished, taking the boy-who-lived, Savior of the Wizarding World, with it. The old Professor resisted the urge to fall to her knees and cry out in frustrated agony as she lost yet another of her students to unknown means.

_Gringotts Bank_

On that very same day, just a few moments before everything went to Hell, a lone goblin sat undisturbed at a desk in a small, familiar office. He was looking over a list of clients when all of a sudden the paper burst into flames and one name disappeared from the list. Instead of jumping up in alarm, the goblin simply folded his hands before his face, smiled a grim smile and said in the barest of whispers, "Goodbye, Harry Potter."

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